There Will Be Blood
by camlin
Summary: (set in 'Mockingjay') Have you ever wondered how exactly was Peeta hijacked? And what if it wasn't just a couple of fake tapes, but Snow controlling Peeta's brain and putting him in some made-up reality? Oh, but it isn't just any reality either, for Peeta is going to face the first ever Hunger Games – and meet Katniss, however different she is.


_A/N: Have you ever wondered how exactly was Peeta hijacked? And what if it wasn't just a couple of fake tapes, but Snow controlling Peeta's brain and putting him in some made-up reality? Oh, but it isn't just any reality either, for Peeta is going to face the first ever Hunger Games – and meet Katniss. (This chapter is short – like a prologue, and I promise future chapters will be longer.)_

**Chapter 1**

I hear annoying buzzing and some muffled talking, so I open my eyes, only to be greeted with darkness. As I turn my head around, I wince: seconds ago I didn't feel anything and now it feels like I was hit at least a couple dozens times with a lash.

Sweat forms on my forehead – it's not cold, so it's probably because I am getting ill. I move my hand to swipe it off and smirk when I succeed – at least I'm not a lost case and can move my hands.

However, moments later I come back to reality. The Games, destruction, Katniss…

Katniss.

My breath hitches as I blink multiple times, trying to readjust – where is she? I fumble around with cold fear creeping up my neck because no, there is nothing around me but cloth. I can't find her, she's not here.

They've taken her or worse-

I don't let my mind wander on the dangerous territory as I push every ounce of my strength to make my limbs move, yet it turns out fruitless and, after minor twitching of my legs, I fall back.

Legs. As in, multiple, real legs.

I probe my leg only to find out that yes, it's real and it's fully healthy – but, just like the other, doesn't seem to help me much. That is a good start and I don't stop for a second to wonder how the hell did my injured leg got fixed. I think about Katniss again and, with a remaining amount of power in my body, try to get up again, using my elbows as support.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," an unfamiliar voice mumbles and I look up. It turns out I am laying in a tent – this stranger opens a side of it enough so that the light from the fireplace outside gives me an ability to look around. The person – middle-aged woman whom I've never met before – looks at me pitifully. I ignore it, instead asking a question that bugs me the most.

"Where am I? Where is Katniss?"

She looks at me as if I'm speaking different language and gives a humorless laugh. Then, she steps inside the tent and crouches down next to me, checking the multiple bandages on my torso that I didn't feel before. She pushes me to lie down and relax, which I do without hesitation – she doesn't seem like Snow's comrade and the obvious lack of weapon in her hands urges me to trust her. "Look, kid, I don't know this Katniss you are talking about but if she was with you in the woods, I can send men to look for her. Sadly, I'm sure we won't find her because of the darkness, but if this will calm your soul, so be it."

I mimic her perviously confused expression and prop up on my elbows again which causes her to exasperatedly sigh. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't know where Katniss is," I command her grimly. Maybe I am wrong and Snow actually captured me, now playing some mind games with me.

She rolls her eyes but does as I say, adding, "I don't even know who this girl you are talking about is."

I nervously gulp, clenching and unclenching my fists. "Look, everyone in Panem knows who Katniss Everdeen is – you can't seriously ignore everything that happens in the world. She's a winner of the 74th Hunger Games – as well as I am."

"Oh," she nods, slowly standing up and moving away from me, keeping her eyes fixed on me at all times. "Okay, I'll go ask around, see what I can find."

As the leaves the tent, I lay still, waiting. However, seconds later I hear her shushed words and everything inside me freezes. "This boy went coo-coo – probably felt from a tree or something. Mentions some girl named Katniss and – what was that – Hungry Games? I don't think it's right to keep him with us – can't expect anything good from a boy like this."

"Give him some sedative and leave him by – we aren't staying here for long either way," another – male voice – says gruffly. Realisation dawns at me – it doesn't look like one of my nightmares; if anything, it feels rather realistic, from my head buzzing to a fleeting smell of sweet corn, mixed with a lovely aroma of fresh bread – I would know. I have no idea what to think – maybe I am still at the Arena, and this is just an over realistic dream from the drugs Capitol injected to keep the Games 'interesting'? Sooner or later I will wake up, so I don't start to fumble when the woman that spoke to me mere minutes ago comes back in with a needle in her hands.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," she wholeheartedly says before I feel sedative entering my body and, feeling dizzy, soon feel my eyes closing.

My rest is peaceful which causes me to jerk up when I finally come back from a long slumber. It is much lighter now – I would say, five or six in the morning. Grunting, I slowly stand up and look around; as I expect, it was a dream, as I am in the middle of the forest and there isn't a sign of recent camp or a lingering scent of food in the air. Unlike I felt before, my body feels perfectly fine, save for a few annoying bruises on my hands and legs.

This is weird, I think offhandedly, as I don't remember seeing forest like this in the Games. Besides, it is all too quiet and safe to be one – doesn't Capitol make sure we suffer as much as possible? Or maybe it is done to coax me into thinking I am safe here, only to attack with poisonous insects or aggressive animals minutes later?

As I am fully standing on my legs, I brush off any dirt from my clothes and set off. I don't know how long it will take me to find Katniss or anyone else, though I dearly hope not to run into an enemy – clearly, my current confusion won't allow me to fight anyone stronger than a newborn.

The skies are dimm; I walk about, and soon find some moss on a side of tree trunk that is facing me. To make sure I'm not mistaken, I check a couple of other trees, and so I'm positive about where north is. However, I know that I might not come back to this forest where I am likely find some nourishments, though first I need a location of some water supply.

It takes half an hour or so but I finally find a minute stream. Because I don't have any bottles or containers and don't see any nearby, I drink as much as I can. I suddenly have a flashback to a few weeks ago: me, Katniss and Haymitch back in Capitol with a table full of luscious viands. I've tried sustenances I haven't seen during preparation for 74th Hunger Games, like sultana, plantains and prunes, but my favourite seemed to be figs. It's funny how not that long ago I was provided with any kind of cuisine I wanted and now I am fighting for survival, feeling lucky if I find any spoiled fruits.

Making a little basket from leaves and twigs, I fill it with berries and set off to north. I don't have any particular reason to go north, but this is better than going rounds. It gets lighter with each passing minute and the skies are surprising blue without a single cloud; the weather isn't, on the other hand, as nice – it's boiling hot, so I decide to carry boots in my hands and take off knee pads that, I realise, were indeed uncomfortable.

As it turns out, I wasn't that far away from leaving the forest, but I am met with something I don't expect to see: a village. People rushing about, doing their duties and kids playing with rocks, occasionally helping their parents.

Am I still sleeping? This can't be a simple dream, I tell myself again, so I do the only thing that can help me with forming my decision: I look closely at the faces of each passenger. In school we were once told that you can't dream of people you've never seen before; brain isn't capable of creating faces, therefore any person you see in your dreams is someone you know or briefly met before. Yet, i don't recognise a single face – is it just as illusion?

There is still a possibility that we, somehow, were saved from the Games and dropped out at the forest, but there is no one there – I'm sure of it. And if we were indeed saved, did our saviour want to save us by dropping at a random forest to give us some time to hide from the Capitol?

"Don't stand on the way, boy," deep gravely voice grumbles. I look back at a man in his fifties and, albeit being rather confused, step aside.

"Which District is it?" I ask, chewing on my lower lip. If, for some reason, the remaining participants were saved-

He gives out a slow whistle. "Stole some beverage from you' father, did ya? Don' drink so much, son – think about liver."

No one turned around when I left the woods, and this man doesn't seem to know me either. I nervously laugh, "Yeah, I'm sure he'll be angry."

"Well, tell you' father to hide alcohol from ya," he grins. "And we are in District 12."


End file.
